


Closer Enemies

by Moontyger



Category: Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 10:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing in his voice or face now but cold and calculating determination. At that moment, he thought Stefan would do anything and never count the cost. "No. Nothing else is worth enough to me. It is you I want and you I am going to have. Or you will lose everything."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heavensgardener (laskaris)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laskaris/gifts).



> Stefan comes across as a total ass in this one, so consider yourself warned if that's going to bother you.

"You know, don't you?" Stefan's voice was flat and it was hardly a question.  
"Know what?" Ike refused to relent enough to admit he knew what he meant.  
"About Soren. What he is." The arrogance in his tone made Ike want to hit him.

"Yes. And it makes no difference. I still love him." His tone carried his own certainty. This decision was closed, final. He wouldn't change his mind.

"You think that. But not everyone will feel as you do. What if others knew and demanded you get rid of the abomination, this walking sin against the Goddess?"

If this continued much longer, he was going to order him out of his sight. That taunting tone, the expression that suggested Ike was a fool: it all made him furious. And he'd better never hear of him saying these things to Soren!

"I wouldn't listen. This is my company, and none of them would do that. If they did; well, they are welcome to leave. And they would. All of them could leave and I still wouldn't reject Soren."

"And if the Princess ordered it?"

"I still wouldn't listen. She is just an employer. I don't need any of the rest of this. None of it is as important to me as he is."

Ike turned and walked away. There was no point in continuing this conversation. He knew how he felt and nothing would change his mind.

Thinking over Stefan's words again, he realized something. It almost sounded like he were trying to protect Soren, testing Ike to make sure he wasn't going hurt him. He had to wonder: what did Stefan feel for Soren? He tried to stifle the surge of jealousy. Soren wouldn't be interested and wouldn't leave Ike for Stefan, so it didn't matter. Did it?

* * *

Another day, another conversation that made him angry. How _did_ Stefan manage to make him furious so easily? This time, it began with him saying, "You know that you can't protect him."

Rage blossomed inside Ike. How dare Stefan voice such a personal fear: the fear he tried to hide and never look at? He would die to protect Soren, but sometimes he worried that it wouldn't be enough. It was the one failure he knew he couldn't live with.

"I will certainly try!"

"But in the end, you will fail." Stefan sounded cold, but certain. What did he know that Ike didn't?

"Is that a threat?" he asked through clenched teeth. He hoped he would give him an excuse to act on his anger. If Stefan were a threat, he would end that threat here and now.

"No. Just a statement of fact. In the end, you will fail. And then he will come to me. In the end, I will win. I just have to wait long enough."

"What are you saying?!" Ike's self-control was the thinnest of threads now and he could feel it unraveling even as he demanded an explanation. Unable to wait for an answer, not trusting his own reactions (as if anything could excuse such a statement!), he tore off to find Soren, desperate for reassurance that he hadn't already lost him and needing to stake a claim to him.

Afterwards, Soren kissed him and stroked his hair tenderly. "Ike, what's wrong?" he asked. "This isn't like you."

Ike sighed. He should have known he couldn't hide anything from him. Not that he really wanted to. "It's Stefan. He keeps saying terrible things to me: that I will fail to protect you; that he will take you from me. I couldn't bear it if either of those were to happen!"

Soren frowned, but his words and voice were gentle. "You should know better than that. I love you. You've always been the only one for me." He kissed him again and Ike held him close, wanting never to let go. He knew Soren meant what he said; why was he still so afraid? "I'll talk to him," he promised. "I'll find out why he has been saying these things to you and make him stop."

Soren sounded so determined and so protective of him that Ike couldn't say no, even if the idea filled him with misgivings. "Just remember that I'll always love you," was all he said, rather than voicing any of his doubts. He worried that Stefan would say these things to Soren and it would hurt him; he was afraid it would change his mind. But he wouldn't be so condescending as to order him not to do it. They were equals; had to be equals. So he would let him be protective of him in turn, as Soren let him do the same for him.

* * *

Soren felt nervous entering Stefan's tent, but he only had to remind himself of how lost and unsure Ike had sounded to overcome it. How could Stefan do that to him? He didn't know or care what his motives were; he was determined to make him stop. He could bother Soren all he wanted; he was used to it, after all, but he _would_ leave his lover alone!

Stefan was stretched out on his bed, arms folded behind his head and his boots still on, looking perfectly at ease and rather smug. "I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Reconsidered what I said?"

"You know perfectly well I haven't!" he snapped at him. "Why have you been bothering Ike?"

A slow, pleased smile spread across Stefan's face. "It got your attention, didn't it?" He grasped a slender wrist and pulled Soren on top of him, kissing him. It was so fast and so unexpected that he froze, unable to react as his brain struggled to process what was happening.

The sound of the slap rang out much louder than he would have expected. Soren backed away to the far wall of the tent, fingers clutching the tome he was glad he had thought to bring with him. He would kill him. He didn't have to take this, not this! Who could blame him when he had laid unwanted hands on him like that? He was shaking with rage and fear.

"Ow." Stefan rubbed the vivid red handprint on his cheek ruefully. He looked up and caught Soren's eye, saw him with his hands raised, prepared to cast. He wouldn't be taken by surprise like that again! "If you kill me now, like this, when I am unarmed, it will be murder, you know," he said casually. "Do you really think anyone could protect you from the consequences of that?"

Soren froze, then lowered his hands. He was right, damn him. "Never touch me again!" he said. "Or I will do it and it will be self-defense." He measured the distance between them with his eyes and wished it were greater. He _thought_ he could react in time if he needed to. At least he knew Ike would come if he screamed. Nothing would save Stefan then, and the thought gave him a grim sort of satisfaction.

"I just told Ike the truth." Stefan's green eyes met Soren's and locked, both refusing to look away. "It doesn't matter what he feels. He is _human_ and you are not and never can be." His tone made the word the obscenity that laguz meant it to be.

"That doesn't matter. And if it does, he'll find a way around it." None of his doubt, his fear, was in his voice or his eyes. He would _never_ let anyone else see it, especially not this man, with his smug certainty that Soren's love was doomed.

"That is the sentiment of a child, Soren, and you aren't a child, however you appear. He can't make everything all right. It just isn't possible." He now sounded like an adult telling a very young child he couldn't have some toy he was throwing a temper tantrum for. Soren hated it, but he wouldn't concede the point and he did have faith in Ike. And in himself. If there was a way, they would find it. If there wasn't, they would _make_ one.

"Everyone said what he has done so far was impossible, too. Ike is good at overcoming the limits of what other people think is possible. I have faith in him and in _us_. If it is a problem, we will solve it together. So you can just leave him alone!" He crossed his arms over his chest and forced himself to continue meeting Stefan's eyes despite his discomfort.

"So protective of him! I wonder how he feels about that? Can't the General take care of himself?" His tone was mocking, but he looked away, finally. Soren felt a vicious triumph.

"You're jealous," he said flatly. "You think we can do it, too, and it drives you nuts. That's why you keep bothering us."

Stefan laughed, but it was a bitter laugh. "Maybe you're right. But that doesn't mean I plan to stop bothering you. Or that I couldn't do worse than that if I tried. What would you do to stop me from telling everyone the truth about you, I wonder?" he mused.

Soren stared at him in shock. Was he serious? He seemed to be and he tried to stifle a shudder. "I assume you have something in mind?" he replied dryly. "I'd say you can't be serious, but I begin to think that there is nothing you won't do." He could hardly believe this was happening. This was not how he had expected this conversation to go!

"Oh, I'd do it all right. I didn't have a reason to tell your secret before, but now," he shrugged. "There's nothing stopping me. What do I really have to lose?"

Soren gave a frustrated sigh. "I suppose you don't care if people know about you?"

"I never tried to keep it a secret. Unlike you. People will wonder what else you are hiding." His expression was sly and he spread his hands suggestively. Soren jumped at the unexpected movement and tried to edge further away. "How could anyone trust you again? Ike still does because he's in love with you, but everyone else? How would they feel? You're not so naïve as to not know the answer to that!"

"So what's your price?" He was ready to get this over with. The kiss earlier made him feel jumpy and off-balance and he felt desperate to get out of this tent that felt increasingly too confined for safety.

Stefan must have known how he felt. Surely he wouldn't have made such an outrageous demand had he not sensed that Soren was desperate and nearly willing to agree to anything if he could just leave and flee back to the safety of Ike's arms.

"One night with you. Give me one chance to show you how it could be with someone else of the same kind as you. Let me prove to you that blood really is thicker than water. You won't regret it."

Soren was shocked and outraged. How could he ask _that_? Did he really think Soren could bear to let him touch him? Was he really such an overconfident fool?

"I already regret that we ever met you and even more so that I came here tonight. _No_. I should kill you for even asking and Ike _will_ kill you if he hears about it." He was pleased that he kept the fear out of his voice, leaving only the anger and determination audible. His hand tightened on the tome in his sleeve and he tensed, prepared to fight back if Stefan took so much as a step towards him.

"Very well then." He stood, but barely glanced at Soren, moving instead to leave. "I will tell everyone. Starting with the Begnion commander. I believe I know where his tent is."

Afterwards, he will hate himself for his weakness. But visions of being considered untrustworthy, of losing even the tenuous connection he had to the other Greil Mercenaries, made him speak. "Stop. Won't you... accept anything else? Please."

Stefan turned back and his gaze seemed almost sympathetic. For a moment he really thought he might have pity on him and stop this. He _had_ to understand Soren's fear; would he really take advantage of it like this? He raised a hand, seemed about to caress his face. Soren backed away and raised his own hands protectively. Maybe it was a mistake; maybe he would have given in had he acted differently, permitted the gesture. But it was too late; he had acted instinctively to avoid Stefan's touch. He saw his eyes harden.

There was nothing in his voice or face now but cold and calculating determination. At that moment, he thought Stefan would do anything and never count the cost. "No. Nothing else is worth enough to me. It is _you_ I want and you I am going to have. Or you will lose everything."

_Not everything_, a tiny voice inside whispered. But it would be enough; more than he wanted to lose. And it would hurt Ike terribly. _More than this?_ the inner voice asked. But he couldn't back down now. Stefan had already seen his weakness; the smell of his blood was in the air and he knew it would only attract more predators.

"On one condition." He couldn't believe he was doing this; was amazed to hear the words come from his mouth. What had he just said?

"Done." Stefan's response was instant and he wondered if he had given in too easily. Maybe he really could have talked him out of it. Given time, maybe he would have reconsidered, realized how foolish this request was.

"Don't you even want to know what it is?" He was angry, with Stefan and with himself. What had he been thinking to agree to this, under any circumstances? He should have let him tell anyone and everyone. Anything rather than this.

It's only for one night, he reminded himself. He'd get through it somehow and then it would be over. Not like the consequences of letting Stefan cause trouble. _Those_ would be more permanent.

"Very few conditions could be so bad as to make me regret this bargain. But very well, what is it?" He seemed idly curious, no more. Until Soren actually told him.

"Ike has to be there. With us. I'm not sleeping with anyone without him!" His gaze and voice were determined. Stefan had already agreed and he wasn't going to back down.

The expression in the green eyes meeting his turned dangerous when he named his condition. "You may regret that condition, little mage. You may regret it very much," he said softly. "But it is none of my concern if you want to ruin your relationship rather than keeping this a secret. I stand by my word on it."

"I'd worry more about myself once he hears about it, if I were you!"

He tried to edge past him to leave, but a hand on his arm stopped him, squeezing tightly enough that it would probably leave bruises. "He'll be angry, no doubt. But I think you'll find he's less willing to commit cold-blooded murder than you think."

His final damage done for the night, Stefan opened his hand and let him go. Soren could feel his eyes on him and he tried not to run. He wouldn't give that blackmailing _monster_ the satisfaction.  


 


	2. Chapter 2

Ike was furious. Beyond furious: enraged. “How dare he even _touch_ you? Much less make such an indecent suggestion!” His knuckles were white with the tightness of his grip on the hilt of his sword as he raged, looking for something, anything, he could break to vent some of the anger he was shaking with. He found nothing and it made him even more frustrated. Under other circumstances, the sight of Ike stomping about his tent wearing nothing but a pair of pants and his sword might have been funny, but right now neither of them saw any humor in it.

“Ike.” The fear in Soren's voice stopped him instantly. His anger wasn't what was most important. And he never wanted Soren to be afraid of him!

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” His gaze examined him mercilessly, despite Soren's squirming and blushing at the force of his stare. He frowned at the darkened finger-marks on his upper arm. “Did he do that?”

“Y-yes,” he admitted, looking away, anywhere but at his angry lover. “But it's not important!” he insisted, speaking quickly, before Ike could rush off to teach Stefan a lesson about hurting the man he loved.

He put down his sword before he could change his mind and crawled back into bed, holding him gently, even though he wanted to crush him to him fiercely. Surely gentleness was best now, so he tried, although he feared he wasn't too successful. He was just too upset, too angry and threatened and afraid, to be gentle! Maybe his kiss was hotter, fiercer than usual, but Soren didn't protest, even seemed comforted by it.

“I'll do my best to cleanse you, make you forget the feel of him touching you,” he promised. It wasn't a solution and they both knew it, but for now it was reassuring. At least he hoped Soren would find it reassuring.

Ike turned his attention to giving Soren the most pleasure he could, delighting in the way he moaned his name and clutched at him, whimpering with desire. Maybe their love-making this time had an overtone of fear and desperation, but they both needed it too much for it to be any other way. And for a time, it was enough.

Afterwards, though, he couldn't forget. He might have been able to divert it into lust for a time, but he was still angry. “I'll kill him, “ he muttered under his breath, pressing Soren to him tightly, possessively. He wasn't a murderer; he had never killed like this before, when it wasn't a matter of warfare. But there was always a first time and this certainly felt like reason enough!

“You can't, Ike.” Soren's eyes begged him for understanding. “I really wish you could. I wish _I_ could! But neither of us can. It's murder and even a general doesn't have that right. At most, you would be expected to bring the matter to Princess Elincia to ask her for justice.”

Ike kissed him, loving him even more as he heard him tell him things he didn't want to hear. “Even now, you are still my advisor: seeing things clearly that I cannot. How did anyone ever doubt you?”

Soren blushed at the compliment. “I just try to do what's best for you. Even if it isn't what either of us truly wants.”

Ike frowned, thinking. “I could throw him out of the company,” he suggested. “I don't have to answer to anyone for that!”

“You don't. But he will have no reason not to tell then, and your action will have given his words more credence. How else could you explain your reasoning?” His tone was dull, resigned. He clearly didn't want to say this; had no desire to do this, but felt he had no choice. “I wish I saw a way out of this.”

“There has to be one!” He didn't want to admit they were trapped. He didn't want to have to do this! “I love you and I don't want you to have to do this, Soren!”

“I don't want to do it, either. I don't want him to touch me again! But as long as you're there, I'll bear it. And it's only one night. I'll be okay. I promise.” His eyes were deliberately wide to hold back tears and Ike winced at the pain in them.

He wasn't sure which of them he was trying to convince, but it hurt to hear him try to be brave about it for his sake. He squeezed his hand reassuringly. He would protect him as best he could, get him through this as best he could, but he hated that he couldn't stop it altogether. “I won't make you go alone. You won't ever be alone with him and you won't have to see him again before or after. He can't just do anything he wants, either. I'll make sure of it.”

* * *

When he saw Stefan the next day, Ike was still angry. The mere sight of him made him want to grab him by the throat and start squeezing. His hand went to his sword and stayed there. He didn't think he could remove it if he tried; he was having enough trouble not drawing it.

Stefan seemed to realize he was in danger. He nearly took a step back, but stopped himself before he did, frowning a little, probably at having shown weakness. Then he looked up and met Ike's angry blue eyes boldly. “You wanted to see me?” he asked with a cocky grin.

“You know damn well why I want to see you, you blackmailing lowlife!” Ike hissed back. He would have shouted, but he knew he had to keep his voice down. He would _not_ let Soren be embarrassed by anyone else hearing about this. “You decided to treat my boyfriend like a whore. He isn't for sale!”

Stefan crossed his arms and leered at him insolently. “So you're refusing? Are you really prepared to face the consequences?”

Ike gritted his teeth and mentally repeated “you can't kill him” like a mantra, until he could finally speak. “No. We'll do it. I don't like it, but it is Soren's decision. But you'd better watch yourself, or I will forget I can't kill you and not remember until it is far too late, at least for you.”

Stefan smirked at him and he longed to wipe it off his face by force. “Fine with me. When?”

“Two nights from now. We'll come to your tent after dark. I will arrange to make sure no one overhears.” He had wanted to have it in his tent, someplace he felt in control, but he also recognized the wisdom of Soren's desire not to taint the place that was just for them, the first place they had made love. It should remain a place of happy memories and love, not trauma. They were giving Stefan too much as it was; he wasn't willing to let it haunt them any more than it had to.

“Very well. Anything else?”

How _could_ he sound so relaxed, as though he did this sort of thing every day? It just made Ike angrier. Did this really mean nothing? If so, why was he willing to go so far for it? He didn't understand it, didn't really want to understand unless it gave him a way to prevent it. “I don't want to see you anywhere near Soren either before or after. This is a one-time thing. I won't permit it again!”

“Understood. I'll be waiting.” The soft words sent chills down Ike's spine. Were they really going to do this? Was he really going to let this man put his hands on the man he loved, especially when he knew Soren didn't want it? It was Soren's decision, but he wasn't sure he would be able to bear it. If it were up to him, he would kill him now and damn the consequences.

For Soren's sake, though, he will try. Try and somehow make what can only be rape do as little damage as possible. He trembled with the effort of turning his back on this man who seemed a smirking demon to him and walking away.

* * *

He didn't want the appointed night to ever arrive. He hoped for an attack, a sudden case of dysentery, anything to prevent Stefan from collecting the price for his silence, a price that seemed higher every hour. Every move he made to ensure their privacy pained him. He wanted to ask for advice, plead for intervention, but there was no one he could trust. Not for this. He had never felt so alone and so trapped.

That night, they were both too nervous to eat. Soren spent the time before they left huddled in Ike's arms, shaking. He stroked his hair and cuddled him, swore he loved him again and again. He promised it was okay if he didn't want to go; they'd survive Stefan's sabotage together. He didn't really know what to say, how to make this okay, but he tried. If by any word or deed he could give Soren comfort and reassurance, he would do it.

At last Soren met his eyes and he fell silent before the weight of that gaze. “It's time,” he said simply.

Ike kissed him one last time, passionately, desperately, trying to convey the love that was too big to put into words. Soren clung to him and he knew neither of them wanted to stop. But they did, far too soon, and they left his tent hand-in-hand, both afraid and angry but glad they didn't have to face this alone.

  
Soren was so afraid he was amazed he could still walk. Only Ike's hand in his kept him moving, kept him from collapsing in terror and self-loathing. How could he ever have promised _this_? Could anything really be worse? How would he be able to stand to let someone besides Ike touch him?

He sneaked a glance up at Ike; noticed how set his profile was. He was dreading this, too. Even now, he could change his mind. A part of him wanted to. But he had feared rejection his whole life; he didn't want to see his fears realized. He had to do this. He was strong enough to do this. He hoped.

He stared at the tent as though it were a death sentence. He felt ready to pass out from fear. Soren realized he had stopped, but he couldn't seem to make himself take the next step. His feet refused to move; he could scarcely breathe. He couldn't do this!

Ike squeezed his hand and his paralysis was broken. He took a deep breath and shoved the tent flap aside. Nothing had changed; he still had to do this, even though he almost turned and ran from the hungry look on Stefan's face.

“I wasn't sure you were going to show. I'm glad to see you are a man of your word.” He took Soren's free hand, ignoring Ike completely. It took all Soren's strength not to snatch it back. He felt so much dread at that touch that everything around him seemed distant and he felt as if he were floating.

“Shh, don't look like that.” Stefan sounded surprisingly gentle and it confused him. What did he think this was? “Sit down. Here, drink some water, you look ready to faint.”

Soren sat and was glad of it, as he had felt his knees were ready to give out at any moment. He took the water and stared at it in puzzlement. This was surreal. Why was Stefan being nice to him suddenly? Did he really think it could make up for what he planned to do?

Ike sat, too, nearly on top of Soren. He could feel the heat of his body next to him and it made him feel safer. He leaned against him as unobtrusively as possible. He was confused and frightened, but not alone. Ike would protect him. He drank some of the water to give himself time to think.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Stefan said, still in that gentle tone, as though he were soothing a skittish wild animal.

“Damn right you're not going to hurt him!” Ike said. His hand caressed Soren's back, trying to help him relax. “I'll kill you if you hurt him and damn the consequences!”

“That,” Stefan said sternly, giving Ike a glare, “is hardly a comment that is going to set the right mood.”

“I don't care about your mood! We are here under duress, so I don't give a damn about your _enjoyment_. If you have changed your mind, we will leave. Someday I might even forgive you for putting Soren through this.”

Ike's voice dripped barely-controlled rage. In contrast, Stefan's voice sound urbane, amused, as though they were trading pleasantries in a court somewhere. It was out of place and absurd. Soren wondered if he were dreaming.

“I, on the other hand,” Stefan said, “care very much about whether Soren, at least, enjoys this. And he wanted you here, for some reason, so you might as well be useful. Stop threatening me and hold him.”

“What?” Ike sounded nearly as confused as Soren felt. Did Stefan really think he would enjoy this? Oh, he liked sex with Ike well enough (better than well enough, if he were honest), but this would be different and wasn't something he would have freely chosen. Couldn't Stefan see that that changed everything?

“Hold him,” Stefan repeated impatiently. “Turn him so his back is against your chest and put your arms around him. Soren seems to find your presence reassuring, so try to help him relax!”

Soren could sense that Ike was still confused, but it wasn't a request he objected to, so he complied. He did feel safer like this, protected in the cradle of Ike's arms, and he relaxed a bit in spite of himself, sighing softly and closing his eyes. Like this, he could pretend this was normal, just the two of them, cuddling after a particularly stressful day.

Stefan's voice broke the illusion. “That's better.” He sat on the bed near them and Soren felt hands on his hair, his face, stroking softly. “You don't need to be afraid,” he whispered, and kissed Soren gently, then again more deeply.

He could feel Ike tense behind him, but he didn't stop it. They had agreed to this, however much he hated letting anyone else touch Soren. And Soren knew he hated it; could feel his hatred of it in every tense muscle against his back, in the arms that were holding him almost too tightly now, seeking to take as well as give reassurance.

He couldn't relax anymore; it was too real and he couldn't pretend it was Ike touching him. He almost regretted having him here, because it kept him present; as long as Ike was here, he couldn't retreat inside his mind and stop feeling. But he needed him here, too. He wasn't sure he could make it though this alone.

He couldn't seem to stop trembling. He didn't pull away, didn't protest, but he couldn't stop shaking. Stefan didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't mind. His hands were still gentle, caressing, but it didn't make it any better.

“Do you mind if we take your hair down, Soren?” he asked, and waited for Soren to open his eyes, to meet a gaze that was openly lustful. Soren repressed a shudder. How could he want this? Didn't he see that his desire wasn't returned?

“It's... okay,” he said at last. With his hair down, he could hide behind it. Ike took it down for him and this, too, was familiar. Almost safe, but not quite. This whole experience felt _wrong_.

Stefan ran his hands through his hair, nearly purring in pleasure, then kissed Soren again. His mouth was hot and he could feel how much he wanted this, but all Soren felt was fear. Fear and the willpower he used to let it happen, to not fight back. Trust that Ike would protect him if he needed it.

Strange hands stroked him through his robes and he tensed, whimpering. He wanted to tell him to stop, but he had given his word. He wouldn't break it, but it was so very hard not to!

“You can touch him, too, Ike,” Stefan said. Soren was surprised. He hadn't expected this. Why would Stefan allow it? “He wanted you here and he must enjoy your touch. Help me give Soren pleasure.”

Ike hesitated. “Are you okay with this?” he asked in a low voice.

Soren didn't hesitate. “Yes, please, Ike. Touch me,” he answered, knowing his voice was shaking, too, and not caring. If Ike were touching him, too, maybe it would be all right. Maybe he would be able to forget what was really going on. Now that the idea had been suggested, he was desperate for his touch. Desire mixed with the fear and he was ashamed of it, but couldn't stop the feeling.

Ike's kiss was fierce, possessive. Soren loved it. He needed this, needed to feel that Ike still wanted him, wasn't disgusted. He almost forgot about their audience and moaned softly when the kiss ended.

“I'm here,” Ike whispered, so softly Soren barely heard it. “I won't leave you.” He nibbled his earlobe and it felt good enough that he managed not to jump when he felt another mouth on his other ear. Hands and mouths wandered his body and he kept his eyes closed, tried not to think about it. They had the same calluses, the same strength: without sight, he couldn't easily tell the difference. Or so he told himself.

He didn't resist when someone removed his robes, but he didn't look to see who it was either. He doubted it was Ike; he didn't think he would do it willingly, not in these circumstances. But the doubt was still better than certain knowledge.

“That's much better,” Stefan purred and a hand (it must be _his_ hand, at the moment) stroked Soren's erection slowly. Soren blushed and whimpered with shame. How could he be aroused, here, with him? It made him feel dirty. “You really do desire him, don't you? Maybe it is good for me that he is here after all.”

Ike and Stefan were on either side of him, but he still refused to look, to admit he knew which was which, even if he really did know. Both men in bed with him turned their attention to pleasuring him and Soren couldn't help moaning. In some ways it was terrible and he didn't want this, but it felt _good_ and one of them was the man he loved. The man he hoped would still love him after this was all over.

His fear seemed to make it more intense and he knew he would come soon. He didn't want to, but didn't think he could stop it, either. What would he prove if he could, after all? He came hard in someone's mouth with a cry he tried to stifle behind his hand.

“Yes, much better indeed,” Stefan said softly. Soren refused to let the voice tell him where he was. Hands caressed his still-sensitive nipples and he moaned helplessly. It was far too late to stop it now; he had to see it through to the end. “You have such a sensitive body and you're beautiful when you come,” he whispered and Soren cringed. It felt entirely different from when Ike said it. He didn't want Stefan thinking these things about him, knowing these things. He hadn't really realized he would be giving him something so intimate, so personal.

“You two look so pretty together, too,” he continued and it was even worse. Soren hadn't meant to let him see what they were like together; hadn't thought about it when he wanted Ike here. He wondered if he'd ever be able to be in bed with Ike again without remembering this and wondering if Stefan were remembering it, too. He hoped so. He didn't want this to destroy their sex life, too!

“Will you let me go farther than this? Will you let me have sex with him?” Soren realized Stefan was asking Ike, and it felt strange. Hadn't they already agreed to this? And shouldn't he be asking Soren for permission, if he were going to ask? Ike was his lover, not his keeper!

“If you are careful and don't hurt him. And if Soren agrees.” Ike caressed him as he answered in a low voice, as though Soren were asleep and he didn't want to wake him.

He was glad that Ike made his permission a condition until he realized he would have to speak, to give a consent he didn't feel. “I... I suppose I already gave permission when we agreed to this,” he said in a voice that was barely audible. He wanted to say no, to demand that Stefan let them leave, but he didn't expect that much mercy.

“So you did. It makes thing much easier that you stand by your word. I didn't want to have to insist.” Stefan's voice was still gentle, but he could hear the steel under the surface. He knew then that he had been right and he wasn't going to let them go. This was his price and he would make them pay it in full.

He kept his eyes closed, but he knew who was touching him this time. He knew he needed to relax, but he just couldn't do it. How could he not be tense in these circumstances, being touched by someone who frightened him?

“I think,” Stefan said at last, “that I am going to need your help on this, Ike. If I can't get him to relax, this is going to hurt, whether I want it to or not.”

Ike's hesitation was longer this time. Soren knew that he didn't want to help, didn't want to be complicit in this at all.

“You said you didn't want me to hurt him,” Stefan reminded him impatiently.

“Okay, I'll try to help,” Ike agreed. “But I don't know what you expected; of course he is tense!”

Soren could hear the anger and guilt in his voice and wished he could tell him that it was all right. But it wasn't; how could it be? And he couldn't lie to him, not now, not about this.

“Forgive me,” Ike whispered. Soren felt horribly guilty for putting him through this. He should have done this alone, however much it would have hurt, rather than dragging Ike into it. He had been selfish. Ike would probably never blame him for it, but he blamed himself.


	3. Chapter 3

For now, it was just Ike touching him. He tried to forget the reason, to forget the man he knew was watching them. He knew this mouth, these hands, and they were permitted to touch him. He usually welcomed their touch, longed for it, and even now, he was grateful for it. As long as he knew it was Ike, he felt safe. Ike he trusted; whereas he trusted Stefan not at all.

Ike was trying every trick he knew, everything he had learned about Soren's body, to arouse him, trying to make him want this, want _him_, enough that he wouldn't notice or care what was really happening. It took much longer than it normally would, but eventually sensation overwhelmed his fear and he lost himself in waves of pleasure. His world narrowed to Ike's fingers inside him, his mouth on his cock, and his own need. He didn't remember anything else and was barely conscious of thrusting into his fingers, begging for more, moaning his name.

He whimpered with loss when it all suddenly stopped. Stefan must have been waiting very nearby, as he took Ike's place quickly, quickly enough that Soren didn't really notice it. But it didn't matter. Stefan had hardly touched him when he knew, realized the man inside him, touching him, wasn't Ike. His entire body tensed so fast his muscles cramped and what had felt good only moments before now _hurt_.

“Soren, you need to relax again. You're hurting both of us.” Stefan was trying to sound gentle, soothing, but Soren could hear his frustration. His wasn't the voice he needed to hear anyway; he was only making it worse. He knew the pain was his fault, but he didn't know how to stop. How could he be expected to enjoy his own violation?

Stefan spoke again. “I'm not going to stop,” he warned. “This is my price and I intend to collect. I wanted you to enjoy it, but I'll take it even if you won't.” His eyes and voice were like steel, no softness anywhere. Soren didn't understand. Who was Stefan, really? How could he be gentle one minute and an unfeeling monster the next?

He whimpered with fear and pain, trying and failing to stop himself from crying. He wanted this to stop!

And then it did. He opened his eyes to see that Ike had a sword to Stefan's throat. “You're hurting him,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don't you remember what I said would happen if you hurt him.” His tone and expression left no doubt that he was serious: he really would kill him. Soren shivered at the look in his eyes. He had never seen Ike look like that before. He watched blood trickle down Stefan's throat with what seemed impossible slowness.

Stefan sounded nearly as angry. “I have tried everything I can think of! I have been incredibly patient! What more can I do?”

“You could try not coercing someone unwilling into your bed in the first place!” Ike snapped back. He looked at Soren and must have seen his fear because his expression changed; although none of the anger left his voice. “For now, I will give you one last chance. I will try to fix this. But if it doesn't work, you are giving up or I _will_ kill you.”

Stefan looked furious, but he didn't argue. How could he? Ike still had a sword at his throat and was willing to use it.

He was still staring at Stefan in horrified fascination when strong fingers gently turned his head. “No,” Ike said gently. “If you are going to look, look at me.”

Soren looked and felt he could drown in Ike's blue eyes. All he saw in them was love and tenderness, the anchor he needed so desperately right now, and he couldn't look away. Staring into those eyes, he began to relax, sighing as he felt the tension and pain melt away. Ike kissed and caressed him and he felt his desire return as if it had never fled.

This time, he didn't tense when he felt Stefan begin to thrust into him, his hands on him. Maybe he was just too tired to resist anymore. He was surprised, however, by how good it felt. Stefan clearly knew what he was doing; he hadn't expected that. He had never thought this would feel good, good enough that he didn't want it to stop. He was moaning and gasping in pleasure, even though part of him was horrified at it. Soren didn't want to enjoy it and he tried to stop, but he couldn't. His body simply refused to obey.

Soon he was holding off his orgasm with everything he had and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to. He didn't _want_ to give this to Stefan: it was a gift he didn't deserve and it felt like a betrayal of Ike. He never wanted to betray him. Ike hadn't wanted it to hurt, but that didn't mean he wanted him to enjoy it! How could he ever look at him again if he saw him come like this, from the touch of a man he despised? He felt dirty and yet he still couldn't stop his body's response.

He was nearly sobbing in frustration when he heard Ike's voice in his ear. “Soren, it's okay. I still love you.” He kissed him and Soren let go, let himself come. Ike swallowed his cries with his kiss. He didn't deserve to still have his love, now more than ever, but he wanted it so badly!

Stefan tried to hold him, afterwards, and Soren let him. After what had come before, this was nothing. Ike was still here and he felt safe enough that he was almost beginning to fall asleep when Stefan spoke.

“Ike, do you want me to do something to take care of that?”

Ike's uncomfortable expression told Soren what Stefan's question referred to and again he was confused. What was Stefan up to? He hadn't wanted Ike here and had had him threaten his life, yet he would make such an offer? Why?

“Er, no, I'll be okay,” Ike replied.

Soren wished he had thought to make the offer himself. Normally he was a considerate lover, but this situation had him so upset that he hadn't even thought about what Ike might need. He should have known he would be aroused, after all he had done to him! And now, after Stefan had made the offer he should have, it just felt awkward.

“Are you sure?” Stefan pressed. “I know I've monopolized your boyfriend tonight and given you no chance for release. I don't mind.”

Ike looked even more uncomfortable. “Well, maybe... only if Soren doesn't mind.”

Soren _did_ mind; he didn't want to let anyone else touch Ike. But how could he say no? He hadn't wanted it and Ike had been here the whole time, but he still felt he had been unfaithful. Even worse, he felt too uncomfortable to do as Ike had done and pleasure him while Stefan watched. So he lied, again; once more giving a consent he didn't want to give. “It's okay, Ike,” he said. “You don't have to deny yourself.” No matter how much it hurt, he would give him this. He only wished he could give him more.

He didn't want to watch, but he couldn't look away as Stefan kissed him, hands roaming over Ike's body as though he honestly desired him. Did he have to do it like _that_? He hadn't expected him to make love to him!

It drove him crazy to watch him suck on his boyfriend's nipples, to listen to Ike moan, and know that this time, he wasn't the reason. Was he really so easily replaced? He bit his tongue until he tasted blood to prevent himself from demanding they stop. Ike had done this, borne this. He had to as well, even though he felt as though his heart were being ripped out of his chest.

He watched, trying to view it objectively, as though these were two strangers, as first Stefan's hand and then his mouth stroked and teased Ike's erect cock. His heart beat faster and he wished he had offered to do it himself. He _wanted_ to do it himself now. He licked his lips and tried not to think about it. He didn't want to be aroused again; didn't want to think about why watching them turned him on.

Watching them, he wanted to touch himself, but he wouldn't, couldn't, let himself do that. Not here. Soren squeezed his hands into fists to force them to remain at his sides. What if they noticed? The very thought filled him with shame. At last he couldn't stand it any longer and he let himself touch Ike, caress him and kiss him, licking and sucking and trying not to think about the hands and mouth that had been there before his. He loved this man, wanted this man, so very much! All that mattered was giving him pleasure and he thought of nothing else until he felt Ike shudder in orgasm.

Stefan looked up at Soren, wrapped possessively around Ike, and smirked. “You liked to watch us, didn't you, little mage? Clearly I was mistaken in the approach I took to seducing you. I should have realized he would be the key to your heart, or at least your loins.”

Soren blushed, but he couldn't deny it. He _had_ liked watching. He had been terribly jealous and he hadn't wanted to like it, but he had. Not that he would have let Stefan touch him under any other circumstances! And he had no intention of letting anyone else touch Ike ever again! So what did it matter that it had turned him on? Yet he still felt embarrassed and ashamed and he hid his face against Ike's chest.

Ike held him and stroked his hair as he almost always did after sex. It was familiar and comforting: a sign that he was still loved; their relationship was still whole, even after this terrible night. He hoped he would still want him in the morning.

“You asked for a night. Does that mean you want us to stay the rest of the night, or are we free to go?” Ike asked, his tone businesslike, as though this were nothing more than another job. Despite that, Soren wondered if the question meant he had been wondering the same thing. He knew he would sleep better away from here and he hoped that maybe morning would bring fewer regrets if they were in more familiar surroundings. He wanted to forget this night had ever happened and that would go a long way towards making it seem merely a bad dream. Or so he hoped.

“How kind of you to offer,” Stefan smirked. “Please, stay.” Soren wished he knew what he was thinking. Why did he want them to stay? Did he just want to make them feel uncomfortable or was it something else? His utter incomprehension of Stefan's motives made him feel even more afraid and ill-at-ease. What did he have planned?

  
Ike held Soren as he fell asleep, watching him silently and thinking. He had no intention of sleeping himself. He had promised to protect Soren; he wasn't going to fall asleep and break that promise! Not that he didn't feel that he had already failed. None of this should have happened.

He wondered if Soren's eyes would still have that look of absolute trust when they looked at him. He wanted them to; it had always meant so much to him to see it. But how could they? How could he still feel the same after this? Could he ever really forgive Ike for helping Stefan violate him? Would he ever trust him again? He had known what this was, known how much Soren didn't want it, and he had let it happen anyway. He should have stopped it, done anything to prevent it. Saying that Soren had made the decision, had chosen this over having everyone know his secret, was just an excuse. It didn't even come close to relieving his guilt: guilt that he deserved to feel. Every time he closed his eyes, images of this night kept repeating. He didn't want to see them but couldn't make it stop. Surely anything would have been better!

“You're not going to sleep, are you?” Stefan asked in a low voice.

Ike glared at him but answered, as softly as he could while still being audible. “No. I will guard him until we leave.” It wasn't enough, could never be enough, but it was all he could do now and he _would_ do it.

“You don't have to. I promise, I won't touch him again.”

“What reason do I have to trust you?” Ike demanded, only just remembering in time to keep his voice low. “After this, how could I ever trust you again?”

Stefan's reply was bitter. “Don't you get it? You've won. He's yours, completely. It seems he always was. I have no reason to try again.” His expression matched his voice: resigned, but angry about it.

“You shouldn't have tried in the first place!” Ike snapped, then spent the next few minutes soothing Soren back into sleep. He couldn't imagine what Stefan had been thinking. Had he really thought Soren would want him after this? That made no sense. He had no idea what his motives really were, but surely that wasn't it.

“So I assume you want me out of the company?” Stefan had his arms folded behind his head and was staring blankly at the tent ceiling.

Ike's first impulse was to say yes, but he thought about it before answering. This was a war, after all, and Stefan was a fighter. What would he do if Ike told him to leave, here, in the midst of the war zone? Where would he go? Would he join the enemy? He might have no other real choices.

If he did, Ike would have a chance to kill him. He felt a vicious satisfaction at the idea. He _wanted_ to kill him. Or at least hurt him. He couldn't forgive himself, but he couldn't forgive Stefan either. He was the one who had started this!

However, he would also be able tell them valuable information, information that Ike didn't want them to have. He glanced at Soren, still sleeping, and found it ironic that he had heard that thought in his voice. He had already decided he couldn't trust Stefan, so how could he allow him to leave to join the enemy? Too bad he couldn't arrange to have him locked up, imprisoned on some pretext.

Ike sighed. “No, I guess you have to stay. I don't trust you, so I can't let you leave. How does it go? 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?'”

The look Stefan gave him was one of surprise, but he nodded. “Maybe you're smarter than I gave you credit for.”

“However, it is not without conditions. I don't ever want to see you near Soren again and you are _never_ to speak to him unless absolutely necessary. If I hear of you bothering him, or doing anything like this to anyone else, the penalty will be death at my hand. I would enjoy killing you after this. Don't make me regret leaving you alive.”

Stefan met his eyes, but in the end, he was the one who looked away. “Understood,” he said.

Ike knew they both heard the echo of the previous time he had said it to him in the word, lending it a weight and meaning it wouldn't have had otherwise. Somehow, he found it reassuring.


End file.
